Knox
by A. Knox
Summary: She’s moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl, whose received everything she's wanted. And she rages, and breaks, all over again. E/B
1. Prequel

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. She will not be weak anymore…She swears…

--

She was swimming. Swimming deep. The magnetic pull of the ocean forces her into its hollows, she doesn't resist.

Going to places that people never dreamed about going. She forces herself to push further, further into the dark decaying abyss, her tawny eyes forced wide to take everything in. Her white, translucent dress whipped around her calves as she pedaled further.

Follow the light.

Drawn to the ocean. Harder. Faster. Deeper. The light bulb that gracefully bobbed away held still. It was waiting. For her. It has to. Bella pushed her body forward; there was no need for air.

Air?

Air! What was air? Didn't she need to breath? How? How was she to breath? Panic sets in. Air. She needed air! Edward! Where was he? She froze, her body pedaling the waters. Too far in to go up, not far enough down to continue…caught in the in-between…Vision blurring. No. She needed Edward.

Please help. _Gasp_.

_Wake up Bella. WAKE UP!_

Isabella jerked out of her sleep, panting for air. It came in great gushes of coldness and the faint smell of perspiration hung in the air.

"Is?" A hoarse murmur traveled through the air.

She turned to look at her roommate Annie, who blinked sleepily at her.

Her tank top was damp with her sweat, clinging to her skin. Shakily, she ran her hand through her hair, clumping together the hair.

"Go back to sleep. I'm ok," Isabella reassured with a smile. Her name was Isabella. Not Bella. Isabella. Bella was a fool. Isabella was not so easily flummoxed. There was a difference now. A difference in her now. A difference. Don't forget…

"Ok…" And Annie was asleep again. Isabella smiled. Her roommate was so cute. Always coveting her sleep. It worked in her favor when she didn't want questions asked.

Isabella closed her eyes…_Edward_…

That was a name she forced herself to be ambivalent to. She refused to feel another shred of pain. It was pathetic. It was weak. It made_ her _weak. She was no longer that awkward girl who couldn't let go of her first love. It was horrifying how she was so dependent on him. And when he left, it felt as if half her body was amputated. She couldn't function. She couldn't breath. She needed a release.

Sometimes she wondered if this was healthy. She blamed estrogen and oxytocin. The damn chemical that forces women to be subservient to men. Women get over their first love all the time. Was she so broken that she couldn't even forget properly?

_Really Bella? Only first love? So easily passed off eh?_

She doesn't care anymore that she loved him. She doesn't care because it was just sad. Sad to be a ghost of a person because of a _boy_. A beautiful boy. _NO_! No more, Isabella. No more self pity. No more weakness because of him. Be strong. Be strong. _Be strong._

And Isabella Swan laid back down in her comforter, pulling the sheets close to her chin, and closed her eyes. Repeating her mantra.

_Be strong. Be strong. Be strong._

And took in a breath. _Please let me forget him_.

And knew it was all in vain.

She hated Fridays. Core Studio. 6 hours of pure torture and boredom. Isabella walked swiftly down the urban Chicago street to the Art Institute, tucking in her jacket further to seal out the chill. Her grey boots pounded against the pavement as she power walked to Wabash St.

Amidst her poutiness, she was satisfied. Now a student at the Art Institute of Chicago, she was matured. No longer the lanky child like Bella. She's taken on a new identity. Isabella. Mature, independent, Isabella. College gave her the chance to reinvent herself. No more crying over boys, no more silliness. Isabella was grown up. She didn't cry over guys who didn't want her to begin with. Her life was in her own hands. She pushed through the pain to get success.

But in the recesses of her mind, he still existed. How was she supposed to just erase him? It wasn't as easy as he made it out to be. She couldn't just snap her fingers like a genie and whoosh! Bam! Gone! It doesn't work like that!

She spent the entire summer trying to forget him, through any means possible. Her reckless behavior at first made her feel strangely closer to him. But that false suppression only made things worse when reality set in. _He wasn't coming back_. He wasn't coming back. She curled up and died. Well at least her heart did. Her physical body however, needed a way to vent. Cliff diving. Running through the woods naked. Even an excursion with Jacob. Ways to forget. Ways to carve him out of herself.

That golden eyed boy who dominated her thoughts. Made her pathetic. So she tried to eradicate him from her mind, trying anything remotely reckless and out of character for her. And she liked it. She enjoyed the high that not even weed could give her. That moment of pure thoughtlessness in which Edward didn't exist.

Isabella heaved a breath. The puff of hot air against the chill made a bubble. It's been a while since she was this self-effacing. She stopped at a cross roads, glancing both ways before taking a dainty step off the sidewalk.

Flash of bronze.

She turned to look. It's been so long since she's seen that particular shade. Out of habit. It was only out of habit. _No way_. Her eyes widened as she pushed her mussed, windblown hair out of her face. It must have obscured her vision. It's been a long time since she's seen that shade. She should know. She's looked. Every time. But this time. It was different. That hair. That broad shoulder. Attached to that sinuous body. No.

Isabella froze. Her insides a turmoil of cold and hot. _Edward_.

The bronze haired replica. _It must be a replica_. The boy-man with the muted sunshine hair, turned, that half smiled, directed down. Body, attached to tapered fingers, attached to slender fingers. To a girl. Who was not her.

This must be what it feels like. Anger. The girl who was once Bella, not Isabella ceased to breath. A strong gust of wind couples with the hot ventilation blew at her woolen coat.

Scent travels at one third of the speed molecules travel through the air. Senior year honors Chemistry. Without him.

And she watched as Edward turned sharply, his nostrils flared. Recognition dawning. He has the discipline of control. But it didn't quite wipe the look off his face long enough. The look of a man, starved. His tawny eyes met her brown ones. Regret colored them black before he wiped it blank.

She stared back. Before switching her gaze to the petite girl besides him, who was tugging on his sleeve. Isabella looks back to him. Stoic. Like the fucking marble man he is.

The girl besides him was getting impatient; she continued to tug on his blazer. Edward broke his gaze with her and gave the girl next to him a small comforting smile, before gazing back at Isabella again. The girl next to him looked curiously at him, before turning to look in her direction. Isabella's eyes immediately focused in on her. She had caramel eyes. Pale white. Same strange aura. _No_. He wouldn't…

She felt a surge of cruelty course through her veins. Of course he would.

He would.

"_I never loved you. I lied."_

He never loved her. He lied.

All men lie. It is in their DNA. The compulsion to have more than one woman. To sow their oats. Only 5% of mammals are monogamous. But this wasn't even monogamy. She had no right to be furious. He left her. They were nothing anymore. She doesn't have any rights to call him hers.

Rage.

"Bella?"

She was human. She was evanescent. She was replaceable…

_To be continued…_

_--_

**AN**: So I took the original out, and restarted with the prologue. You will see that mostly it stays the same, but there a some differences, I want to put my best game forward, so I'll be slowly reworking this entire story. Thanks for sticking with me!


	2. Chapter One

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

--

She never liked the feeling of rollercoaster's. The feeling of your stomach dropping down to your crotch and the unsuspecting _brrr _up the spin, it makes her head spin and her gut heave. But right now, she'd happily get on King Da Ka multiple times, and have her innards drop all they want, to get away from this scene.

"_Bella"_

He looked stunned. Eyes wide, lips quivering. Who wouldn't be to see the psycho girl they kicked to the curb across the street. With your new fuck buddy, no less.

She didn't have vampire hearing, but she could read his lips. She wanted to punch his perfect marble face in. She wanted justice. Revenge for the way this cold-blooded reptilian crushed her pride. She wanted to grab his bronze mane of hair, and that girl's ridiculously shiny brown hair and knock their faces together. Bash their perfectly sculpted veneers against each other over, again and again. Then they can be a perfect bloody mess together. She deserved her piece of satisfaction. Her anger was justified.

She panted with the want of violence.

The tears rushed up.

Damn it.

She didn't have time for her hearts melodramatics. She was a busy girl. She had class to get to. But her treacherous body refused to cooperate, leaving her to stand there like some sort of dimwitted ape. Gaping that the superior race across the street, just one evolution short of becoming like them. Jealous of their grace and poise, while she was just a big hulking shapeless mass of brown shit.

_Isabella! Get a hold of yourself!_

Her self-induced pity party broke up as she latched on to her anger again. It gave her back her backbone. Her hate was the only thing saving her now.

His face was stone. Nothing reflected. But his eyes were full of regret. _Regret?_ For what? For not dumping her puny ass earlier? For not getting enough of his carnal need for her body before he hopped on out of her life? Bastard. Fucking blood-sucking leech.

Go fuck yourself.

Her eyes darted to the girl next to him, who was also staring at her like some zoo animal. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o'. Is he fucking her? Her cruel mind wonders. She's stone like him. She wouldn't break if he fucked her.

Oh god.

She composed her face. No weakness allowed. No pity allowed. No emotion allowed.

Pulling her pride together, she allowed a small arrogant smile to cross her lips.

It looked out of place on her normally sweet face, she knew. And Edwards slightly confused look told her as much. She ignored him.

She glanced at the girl, giving her the quick up-down glance before throwing her a haughty look, letting a small smirk to grace her lips before turning away. The look many have given her during the time she dated Edward.

She knew the look well. One didn't need to be a mind reader to know when one was being dismissed as being diminutive and insignificant. She hoped the girl felt insecure. Even if it was for a few seconds. It was what she felt her entire life. Fuckin' Edward.

She felt his surprised. At her arrogance and malice. Good. This was Isabella he was dealing with. Not the mousy Bella.

Oh Bella, that weak hearted fool.

How foolish to fall in love with a god, offering him her delicate human heart. It was easily crushed with the wrong movements. One wrong maneuver, a criss-cross of an artery and it was goodbye Bella, adios, nice to meet you, au revoir, hello river Styx.

…And that's what happened. He crushed her vital organ. Sent her to cardiac arrest, code blue, and refused to jump-start her again. He left her half alive, half dead, gasping to survived. And like an ambivalent viewer watching a bird fly into a window, he just turned around. And left._ Her_.

After all, he was made of the hardest stone known to man. Diamonds. And what was she but 70% water and some carbon molecules?

Quickly, she crossed the street, walking away from this absolute nightmare of a day. She didn't want reminders of her past. She didn't need his bullshit in her life. She duck taped herself together after he left. Zoloft and Captain Morgan.

"Bella!"

He had dropped the other girl's hand, and was now weaving his way across the busy street.

"Hey asshole! It's a GREEN LIGHT! Get the fuck out of the road!"

BEEP BEEP!

"Mothafucka! MOVE OUT OF THE ROAD!"

He was causing a traffic obstruction, jogging across the street, when the signal was DON'T WALK.

Fuck.

_I refuse to listen to your lies. I refuse to listen to your lies…_

"Bella! Please, I want to tal-"

"BOY! YOU WANNA DIE?!" A narrowly missed truck.

_I refuse to listen to your lies. I refuse to listen to your lies!_

"I need to expl-"

_I refuse to listen to your lies! I REFUSE TO LISTEN TO YOUR LIES!_

And she did what she has always done best. She hightailed it out of there.

Walgreen's blurred past her as she ran. Quicker quicker! The lamb runs faster.

Finally, she halted as she stopped in front of 37 South Wabash Ave., giving a quick glance around, she ducked inside.

The wind numbed her face. Good. So she can't feel the hot tears pouring down them. Her fingers trembled as she scanned her student id, and she almost sobbed in relief as the elevator door closed behind her, moving her up to the 4th floor.

She knew. He could have easily caught up with her within a millisecond. Thank God for pedestrians and street hobos.

Shaking, she opened the classroom door and plopped into an empty chair, and waited for class to start, trying to ignore the curious look of her hipster classmates. She needed something to get her mind off today's excursion. Preferably woodshop. She felt like chopping something in half.

The rest of the day went painstakingly slow. Each moment a slow motioned blur. Pencil to paper pads. Sketching. Every time she stopped thinking about him, she thought about how wonderful it was that she's stopped. And it started. Again. It got to the point in which she wanted to stuff her arm through the wood chipping machine just so she would faint at the sight of blood. And hopefully, not think about him. But know her luck; she'd end up in a coma, dreaming about him all the time. Damn.

Mumbling under her breath, Isabella descended the stairs and stepped outside. Cold. Oh man. COLD.

Gloves, she wanted gloves.

Pull out gloves. Warm hand. Warm. Warm. Warm…

"Bella!"

No. Isabella whirled around, her heart thumping faster. Cold. Cold. Cold…

"Annie?" It was her roommate. Bouncing up in her red flats. She was such a kid. Take my mind off him. Please.

"You look pale Bella, you ok?" Concern showed on Annie's face as she quickly pulled out a pack of cigs. Tapping them lightly before flipping it open.

"Isabella. Remember? You know how I feel about being calling Bella."

"Oh right. Sorry Is. I don't know why I always want to call you Bella. You just look like such a Bella. Bella means beautiful in Italian! I mean. You're sorta beautiful. Right?" Annie rambled on, her eyes glassy as she sucked on her menthols.

She said nothing.

"Ohhh man. This feels soooo good. Ohhhh!" Annie moaned as she puffed away happily on her cancer stick, giving herself her daily nicotine boost. She was trying to cut back.

"Stop with the sex noises Ann, look your turning him on!" Isabella joked as she jerked her head to a straight laced business man who starred at Annie with his mouth ajar, clearly forgetting that the walk sign was lit.

"Haha, baby you know I only swing one way…" Annie threw Isabella a seductive look, curling her lips around her cig slightly. Shooting her a mischievous grin, Annie turned back to the man, raised her eyebrows slightly and wiggled the tips of her fingers at him, "helloooo!" The man cleared his throat as he colored and walked away quickly, not before giving the young Asian girl another backwards glance.

Isabella laughed, "Ew. You look constipated." The thunderstruck look on Annie's face was priceless.

"Dude. It was sexy!"

"Do you want some cheese with that whine?"

Isabella laughed as her roomie pouted at her insinuation that she whined. Quickly she snagged Annie's pack, and pulled one out, motioning for Annie to light it.

"Dude. Stop jacking my ciggies. Their expensive as hell with the tax here." But she lit Isabella's stick anyways.

"I'm sharing the wealth of cancer. Shove it!"

Annie quickly stubbed out her diminished stick before playfully shoving Isabella.

"Okay, I need to peace out. Bye!"

Isabella waved as her friend quickly danced away in a jangle of necklaces and red shoes. Isabella shook her head at her crazy friend as she continued to puff away, feeling the nicotine quickly steal away her stress. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she walked quickly back to her dorm, occasionally blowing the grey smoke out of her lungs.

Bella would've never smoked. Her delicate sensibilities offended at the sight of the sticks.

Isabella laughed darkly. Delicate sensibilities, indeed. She flicked away her stub. Many things she did now would offend Bella's high moral compass.

She crossed the roads hazardless, quickening her pace to a slight jog as she tried to beat the on setting coldness. Glancing ruefully at the mannequins on display in the Macy's. Ignoring the DON'T WALK signal and quickly jay walked to her dorm. Only to stop.

_Him._

"You." Her eyes narrowed as she growled at him accusingly. He was standing outside her dorm. His hair hanging perfectly, his eyes soft, his smell. Lovely.

"Bella…"

It seems like the floor dropped out from beneath her. That uncomfortable motion sickness. That feeling of inadequacy. Her eyes darted around, looking at the people leaning against the building, pretending to not eavesdrop on her, the patented 'I'm an art student and bored' expression on their faces. But they were all stealing covert glances at them. Was everyone wondering why this beautiful man was talking to her? Her hand flew nervously into her pockets.

How does one describe the feeling of ultimate pain? She mused satirically. To face him was to face all the things she hated about herself.

She can depend on her anger. It soothed her.

She opened her mouth to shout. To bash him. To tell him to fuck off cause he's done enough. He's hurt her enough. He's shown her she's not worth it. She doesn't need it to be flaunted in her face. She's tired. She knows! She knows that she's not good for him. She knows goddamnit. What else does he want from her?

She drew in a breath. Drinking in the kool-aid of 'you're pissing me the fuck off'.

He held up his hand to stop her onslaught of anger. Her breath wooshed out of her, as his hand slowly dropped to her cheek. The pads of his finger gently caressing her skin there.

"_Bella_. That's all I seem to be able to get out now isn't it?" he chuckled sadly.

His voice. Oh god his voice…

Her brain was reeling. How does she save the most face? How can se get out of this with her pride in tact? Does she just dismiss him?

But she was an emotional masochist. She wanted to see his face. The pain will be worth it.

God please. The inferior sex. The fucking emotional attachment. Defying logic.

If she were smart, she'd ignore his pretty eyes and pretty words. If she were smart, she'd tell him she was over it. She'd tell him good luck with his new whore. She'd tell him, _I'm over us. Over you._

If she were smart, she would've never gotten involved. The opportunity cost was too much. But fucking _emotions_ over ran logic. She'd take a thousand slices remember the good times. Oxytocin made her the weaker sex.

Gotta love the logic of fucking ties and emotional torture. The masochist she is.

"Please…listen to me? Just hear me out…I want to talk to you. Ask you how you are."

God. Even his concern was cold.

"I'll leave afterwards, I promise."

I promise.

_I promise._

"_I promise to love you forever"_

"_I promise…"_

He promises?

"You…promise?" She look up at him. And smacked the hand away from her face. Ignoring the twinge of pain she felt as her gloved hand slapped his. Cold.

Does he touch _her_ with the same hand he just touched me with? She wonders.

"You promise?! What good has that ever done me? Huh Edward? Why should you promise me anything? I meant nothing to you! You promised that I'd never see you again. And lo and behold, here you are. I'm seeing you. I don't think I can take anymore of your _promises._"

" Bella…please, just…" He sighed in frustration, raking a hand through his mane, turning away. He turned back.

"Here…in case anything happens. Alice really misses you… Please?" he grasped her numb fingers, and put the neatly folded piece of paper in them, before closing her fingers over them again. Letting her arm drop back to their stiff position next to her body.

Drown. Drown. Swim, Swim.

He pulled his collar up unnecessarily, before turning around.

_You asked me why I stabbed you in the back, but you turned your back on me first…_

Emotional attachment dictates that she be a stupid fuck.

"Who is she?" Word vomit.

She instantly regretted her question. She sounded sad. Like as if she actually gave a damn about him. She doesn't give a damn about him. She also doesn't want to hear his answer. That brunette beside him this morning. She meant something to him. She knew. She knew him well enough to know that much.

It'll hurt so much more to hear it from him. To hear it authenticated. She wanted to hate him. Hate. Anger. She wanted to claw at him. To beat him and to ask him why. Why wasn't she good enough? Why? She wanted to change for him. To be perfect for him. To match his beautifulness. To not look like a charity case next to him. To please, please, _please_ be good enough.

She tried so hard. _So hard_. To be _enough _for him. But in the end did it really matter? She was thrown away. He finally realized that she had known all along. That she wasn't good. She wasn't enough. He erased himself from her life. Took everything. But why didn't he understand that it was cruel. The way he erased himself from her life, but not from her memories. In her memories she was tortured by her inadequacy.

It was impossible for humans to achieve the greatness of gods. Greek legends already told her that. And what happened to mortals who fell in love with the beautiful immortals? They died. They suffered. Hera would never give up her Zeus to a mortal simpleton.

Forever destined to live a life of simplicity and blandness and dying to achieve their longings. There are some things in life that one can _never_ achieve.

Never. Good. Enough. For. Edward.

Unwillingly, her memories of the past year surged to the surface. Beating at her carefully crafted shield of confidence.

She knew what people said at school-

"_He's going out with__** her**__?"_

"_Talk about out of your league…"_

"_2 weeks…until she puts out and he leaves her."_

"_Hahahahaha…"_

Beautiful Edward, plain ugly Bella. Bella…

ISABELLA.

She gasped. Thrown out of her endless insecurities. Stop. Stop. Stop being a baby. Stop. Act nonchalant. Show him. SHOW HIM YOU'RE NOT WEAK. Prove to him. PROVE IT.

She was good enough. She was better. She was strong.

She saw him turn, piercing her with his gaze, and opening his mouth to respond.

"Never mind. It's not my place to ask." She dismissed him. Silently relieved her voice came out straight and seemingly smooth. Good.

He stopped. Before looking at her with a searching glance, "Alright…"

She looked away. His gaze burned her skin. It scalded. A red-hot brand on tender flesh. Stop it. It stings!

"Well, Cullen. Good to see you well." She dared him to contradict her. Do it. Speak out of line. She'll rip into him.

His eyes went dim. He had no choice. He was at her mercy. This was her domain.

"Alright…" He hesitated. Slaying her with his voice… "Stay safe Bella…"

How dare he say that?

_Promise me you'll stay safe. _

She whirled around. Quickly walking into 162 Street dorms. She didn't want to see his back. Never again.

She swiped her key card, pushing into her dorm. Dropping her coat near her chair. Mechanically take off her hat.

Walk to her bed. Pull open duvet.

Collapse. Breakdown. Breakdown. Crash.

She curled up into a ball underneath her duvet. The piece of paper clutched tightly in her pale fingers.

Flashback. Pain. Memories. Jacob, please make it stop.

_Sigh._

_Moan…oh… Jake…I…please…_

Deep breathe. Deep breathe.

She couldn't think.

Mess.

She was a disaster. Moaning, she clawed at the skin at her neck, and panted. She trashed in her bed. Kicking and flailing. She wanted to go do something. Anything. To get off this deep disturbing feeling she had. Reckless. She wanted to just move, and to just laugh and laugh until she was hysterical and crazy. To stop. She bordered on hysteria.

And all she wanted to know was…

_Did he let go of that girl's fingers to chase after her?_

_Emotional attachment kills all survival instinct. We are all enslaved to the act of love. _

_To be continued…_

_---_

**AN**: Hey! Long time no see people! As you can see, this Isabella is very self aware, but still suffers from insecurities that plague most of the female species. But at the same time, she knows her fears are unfounded, but can't really do anything about it. Feed back? Most of the story is the same, I just tweaked a little, do the new additions help divulge deeper into Bella's psyche? Constructive criticism is always welcomed!


	3. Chapter Two

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

--

Porcelain. Thank the gods for porcelain. It's crisp clean smell, the cool surface, and it's gleaming sheen.

She felt sick. Physically ill. After trying to escape the depression she felt on setting, through sleep, she had woke up to a deep setting nausea. Which she now finds herself in front of the toilet. Ah, porcelain, always allowing her to kneel in front of her pedestal and worship in front of her womb. How poetic.

Gag. Heave. Heave. Heave. Gag. Pattern rhythm. Pattern was good.

Gut burning, and throat aching, Bella tumbled to the side of the bowl, fetal position assumed. Edward. Edward. Love. Her life. His life. Edward. Edward. She hates him. Hate. Hate.

Most of all, she hate herself for not being strong enough to get over him. Was this normal? For teenage girls literally wanting to give up on life due to an epic dumping? Fuck that. Sooner or later she'll have to get over this. Sooner or later. This is real life. Not a fucking fairy tale.

Slowly she brings herself to a sitting position, pulling her knees up to her chin. Edward was here in Chicago. She couldn't comprehend this. He looked so normal. Like nothing ever fucking happened. Like he didn't just proclaim love to this one plain mousy girl and then decided to change his mind, and hey! It doesn't matter if he completely shattered her life! Cause you know, Edward Cullen was god. He was god, and she was scum. And what's the matter if you break some cattle's life? Cause it doesn't matter. Fuck him. She wanted to yell at him. Not even yell words. She just wanted her sound waves to crash against his fucking thick marble skull and just let his delicate eardrums HEAR her rage. She'd profane his pure and holy mind with how she'd like to stick her paint brushes up his-

Breath.

Breath.

Her fingers slowly brushed the delicate piece of paper still held in her hand. He had touched this a moment ago. Slowly, she unfolded it.

192 Milers Street. Lake Forest.

Where answers would be.

A sweet smell wafted to her nose. The paper. Steadily, she stood up, pathetically sniffing the crumpled note. This was her chance to get answers. Answers that will finally set her free from this hideous monster that she'd become.

This was awkward. This was…very very awkward. Isabella, stood in front of the brick house, and peered cautiously up the driveway. The very long winding driveway. That led up to the mansion. Slowly, she trudged up the black asphalt, fiddling nervously with her hair. Tucking it behind her ear, pushing at her bangs, smoothing flyaway's. The door approached way to fast. Damn. Nervously, Isabella stuffed her hands into her jacket. Rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Was this worth it? Oh man. No it wasn't worth it. She pivoted back.

Curiosity.

Fuck if she didn't want to know answers.

Quickly before she could decide otherwise, she turned, once again and ran up the steps beneath the pillars and awning. Brown leather gloves, pointer finger, pushing doorbell. Oh my lord. Fuck, fuck fuckitty fuck. She pushed the button. She pushed the fucking button. Nothing but a piece of wood between her and the forgotten Bella. She was going to throw chunks.

"Bellllaaaa!" The voice trailed its tiny pixie owner straight into her arms. Bella closed her eyes. She felt comforted. This was someplace she knew well. In the arms of this steel marble girl, who was everything she wanted to be. Strong and fierce. Unapologetic. Would Alice like Isabella?

"Alice!" Giggling quietly she locked her arms around the fairy girl and grinned. This was where she belonged. She loved this girl. She understood this girl.

"I knew you were outside. I wasn't sure if it was going to be 7 or 9 seconds before you rang the doorbell. I wanted to open the door and just tell you to just ring it. But was afraid you'd get scared and run away from me! But I can outrun you can't I? Yes I can! Bella Bella Bella! I like your gloves." Alice's eyes practically bulged from her sockets as she continued to pebble Isabella with words. It was as if she were trying to get in an entire 2 years worth of conversation into the period of 6 seconds.

"And you know, I kept buying clothes for you, but then remember that your not here, so I just keep them in a trunk. Oh my god, you would love the trunk! It's very you, very Bella, I picked it up in Europe. Do you like Europe? We should visit Europe, cause let me tell you, and the humans there are absolutely lovely! Very kind, very nice, and the clothes, Versace, you will have to come shop…Do you hate me? I couldn't you know. Couldn't talk to you. I'm sorry. So sorry. Please don't hate me. I know I should've tried harder…but…but I just didn't know how to start talking to you. And Edward , he-"

Jasper quietly slipped down the stairs, and placed his hands on Alice's shoulders. She took a deep breath.

Bella laughed at Alice's rambling, and ignored the way her heart squeezed at the opening of a festering wound. It's been way too long. Way too long. She wrapped her arms around the bouncing ball of vampire, giving Jasper a quick smile and a wink, acknowledging his presence and help.

"I missed you…I blame for you nothing, and I forgive you for everything…"

She swore she saw Alice's bottom lip tremble, before the smaller girl wrapped her arms around her in a vice like grip and positively wailed back, "I missed you too, my beautiful sister!"

Then there he was, descending from the staircase. What an interestingly fitting metaphor. The descent from heaven by a god, to talk to the lowly mortal.

Phhhst.

That son of a bitch.

"Edward." Cold, polite, unflinchingly out of touch. Good. This was good.

"Bella." Apologetic, sad. Absolutely heartless. Fucking asshole.

"Actually, I go by Isabella now a-days." Her return response.

Edward flinched. His chiseled face crumbled into a mask of melancholy, as if her name change somehow offended his fundamental values.

"I liked Bella better." Edwards words tumbled smoothly from his mouth. The voice a soft whisper that hurt like a bag of coal.

Jaspers body was tense, his eyes darting back and forth between the two people whom the fates destined to be together. But because of their mule headedness always put themselves into this cycle of hurt and heart break. He clenches Alice's tiny hands. Her wane face was drawn into a serene façade of calmness; eyes closed, lips relaxed, no doubt already knowing what was going to happen. Only the straight arch of her spin gave away to any tension she felt. Jasper shifted his position, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of tension thickening the room, but knowing better than to step in. If there was any amount of violence, then he'll interfere.

Isabella scoffed at his attitude. You have got to be kidding. "You're shitting me. I haven't seen you in nearly two years, and you're already telling me what is and what isn't. It's Isabella now. Call me Is if you want."

Edward growled at the clear sign of her dismissive attitude.

"I'll call you whatever I wish to call you."

Isabella growled back, albeit in a human way. Her eyes clearly challenging him to speak out of turn again, before snapping to attention back to the staircase where the entire Cullen family stood, waiting to be acknowledged. Carlisle. Esme. Rosalie. Emmett. Ah, and the Bitch-whore.

Esme smiled at her widely, as they approached her.

"Bella! Dear girl, it's so gratifying to see you well!" her motherly tone immediately put Isabella at ease.

"Good to see you healthy too." Carlisle spoke heartily, giving her a small fatherly pat on the head.

"Bells and whistle! Give your big bro a monster truck hug!" Emmett quickly fell upon her, pushing Carlisle and Esme aside, scooping Isabella up like a piece of paper, which she probably was to him, and pretended to fly her around the entrance hall. Swinging her legs about.

Isabella let out a long ringing laugh, before playfully slapping Emmett's back, choking out through her mirth for him to let her down. And as Emmett set her down, she saw Rosalie give her small indulgent smile.

She smiled; heartened to see all the Cullen's again, before setting her gaze upon their supposed new addition.

"Hello."

The girl gave her a chilled smile back.

"Hi, I'm Darla. I've heard a lot about you Bella."

"I'm sure you have." She gave a, what she hoped was a passable, fake smile. She'd sooner gnaw off her hand than offer it to Darla.

Darla was beautiful. Bountiful brown hair that fell just right, and tawny golden eyes. Vampire.

Isabella immediately felt dislike for this girl. Darla. What a darlingly lame name. Heard a lot about her? She wondered what Edward would've said about her. His human ex-girlfriend. Yes that's Bella. Annoyingly clingy, clumsy, always unable to handle herself. That's Bella.

Jasper just politely smiled through gritted teeth. This was unwaveringly uncomfortable, but this had to be seen through.

Carlisle and Esme's smile tightened. Rosalie and Emmett looked apprehensive. Isabella's smile became feral. Vampire or not. Beautiful or not. She will not be trodden upon.

"Actually, I go by Isabella now." Her smile was still natural with a little but of scorn attached.

It was difficult to be scornful to a beautiful vampire.

Darla's lips twitched in annoyance.

"Really? Edward never told me that." Darla's voice laced with possession and innuendo.

Huh, so that's how she was going to play it? Vampire or not, this was still a girl. What a joke. While this girl was wooing Edward, Isabella had to deal with her emotional trauma. While this girl was cozying up to the Cullen family, Isabella had to move hundreds of miles away to Chicago, achieving independence by herself. Truly Darla was a girl. Isabella was a woman. A woman who's been scorned and tossed aside, but who picked _herself_ up and continued to live. This was no competition.

"He just found out, but that's quaint." Isabella's calm smile never faded. She never let it show that she was jealous and insecure. All they saw was an indulgent smile. The smile of a woman who was too confident to be swayed by the annoyances of a petulant child.

Darla's face snarled at her for a millisecond, before becoming smug. She gently rested her hands on Edward's elbows, whose face was an ocean of guilt, anguish and pain. Darla turned back to Isabella.

"It seems unfair that I know all about you, but you know nothing about me. We should talk about our experiences."

What. Like compare Edward's penis size? Hey Darla, I like it when he licks my neck right above my jugular vein. Because, you know, I like knowing that my vampire boyfriend is always a millisecond from making me his next meal. Wink. Wink. If you know what I mean. Oh by the way, you'll be gratified to know that we've never had sex, cause he's afraid that he'd get lost in the throes of passion and maybe crush my baby maker, and rip me a new hole.

"Sure. Whenever you wish." Good. Her tone was still bland and indulgent. Darla's face tightened even more. Undoubtedly raging that she couldn't rattle this puny human girl. Good.

Esme clapped her hands, trying to diffuse the tension in the room, her smile awkward and apologetic.

"Well then! Isabella, is it now? Let's move this reunion to the parlor, I just redecorated."

Carlisle, smiled down at Esme, his face still tense, but relaxing slightly and looked down at his petit wife lovingly.

"That sounds like an good idea, dear."

Rose and Emmett quickly followed the herd to Esme's parlor. Before settling themselves into one of the plush leather couches. Alice and Jasper quickly followed the suite, occupying the love chair, leaving Esme and Carlisle the chairs, and Edward, Darla and Isabella the lounging couch.

"So, Bella, tell me, what have you been up to?" Carlisle started the conversation.

Bella smiled at the good doctor, as Esme gracefully walked out to the kitchen to get some tea for the human.

"Well, I'm currently studying at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"That's great Isabella. That's an prestigious school, and if I may ask, what major are you planning on doing?"

Isabella beamed. She loved talking about her craft. Everyone else looked interested, no doubt wondering when she got into art, Darla studied the design of the carpet, a bored look on her face. Isabella ignored her.

"Well, I'm studying studio art under Karl Wirsum! It's a really amazing program, and because we are affiliated with the Art Institute, we get some pretty amazing opportunities."

"That's so gratifying to see you so happy Isabella." Carlisle's voice was genuine, but his eyes quickly darted to gauge Edward's reaction, before flitting back to Isabella's, kindness radiating from his face.

Esme walked back in with a tray of tea, enough for the 9 people in the room, though 8 of those people wouldn't be able to drink it.

Isabella gave Esme a grateful look, before wetting her lips on the chameleon rose tea.

"I didn't know you painted."

Isabella's teacup trembled in her hands. Her eyes darted back to Edwards.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Edward." Her whisper was heard by all.

His eyes became cold. He was closing himself up to her.

"So, Darla," She began, the younger girl looked up, a bored expression still on her face, "How do you know the Cullen family."

Isabella noticed everyone's reaction immediately. Jasper's fingers spasmed, Alice opened her eyes, though the calmness still didn't leave her expression. Rosalie looked slightly empathetic towards her, as Emmett shifted in his seat. Esme and Carlisle looked tense.

But her attention was wholly on Edward, whose expression was torn between vindictive and guilt. This should have tipped her off to the inevitable answer. She's never seen him look more fallen apart. Her heart went out to him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and bring his head to rest on her bosom. To kiss that tortured expression off of his face.

He looked older, more distressed, like life had finally look it's toll on his immortal youth. His eyes shouldn't look blank and anguished. It should be full of lust. For her. Full of love. For her. Full of adoration. FOR HER.

Her muscles clenched, expecting to reach for Edward. Expecting to hold his solid form, and sooth his brow with her warm fingers,

Darla's expression changed from bored to that of attention. Her smile became cruel, twisting her beauty into something awful and wrong.

"Why Bella, didn't you know? Edward changed me."

_To be continued…_

_---_

**AN**: Same chapter just brushed up a bit! Same plot, just fixing mistakes and fixing continuity!


	4. Chapter Three

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

--

Her teacup dropped out of her nerveless fingers, the colored tea spilling over the wooden floor as the cup fell and, thankfully, rolled rather than shattered. But it might as well have exploded with the force of a nuclear bomb for the amount of attention it brought and its backhanded meaning. Shit. Her reaction was uncalled for.

Her smile chilled the winds of Chicago.

Esme fluttered her hands nervously, getting up to help Isabella clean up the mess, but Isabella waved her concern off.

Esme sat back down. Carlisle patted her knee in comfort.

Emmett shuffled his feet, and looked at the floor studying it's apparently fascinating pattern.

The room was still and silent.

Alice had a hard blazed look on her face. She knew it.

Isabella picked up the fallen teacup with her trembling fingers, setting it on the saucer, before blotting the moisture from the wooden floor with her napkin. Not a single word spoken.

Endless grace.

Endless calm.

She was the eye of the storm. Rage is not the word for her cold fury anymore. _Her_? So he refuses to bite his girlfriend. Instead within the span of half a year, he finds a replacement and bites _her_.

She was going to eat his fucking soul.

Fuck it if he doesn't have one. She was going to go to hell, resurrect his soul and then fucking eat it. Humiliated. That's the word to describe how she feels. But she'd be damned if she let it show. She could spew turpinoid right now.

"Really? That's interesting. I was under the impression that Edward doesn't bite _people_. A lot must have changed."

Now that Darla mentioned it, Edwards eyes were darker than normal. No doubt from the human blood. How ironic. He's willing to bite _Darla _but not her. Oh exquisite irony.

Darla's smile was wicked and conniving. Her goal was to bait and kill. She wanted to kill Isabella's heart. Not so easily done, darling. You cannot kill what was already wounded. To kill was a mercy.

"Yes, a lot has changed, _Isabella_, when we saw you last Friday was the first time I was around humans. Thank god Edward was there to hold my hand. You know, blood lust."

Off handed casualness.

Bravo Darla, bravo. Very well played. The hinted intimacy, the insinuation that Isabella didn't belong anymore. But not good enough sweetheart.

"Yes, yes of course." Feigned politeness.

Bitch. Doesn't Darla know? She was Edward's singer. Even if he doesn't love her anymore, he loved her blood. It was the finest wine to him. It was his crystal meth. It was his customized designer drug. One whiff and she'd have Edward begging for more. Hooked like a fucking druggie willing to sell his body for a hit.

Does Darla want to know the type of games she used to play with Edward? Albeit she was innocent then, but she had some type of knowledge how to tempt men. But this was easier. This was infinitesimally easier. All she had to do was prick one finger, and she'd have the god on his knees. Begging the mortal for more. More blood. More. More blood please. Please Isabella, please.

She's made up her mind.

Edward doesn't want her does he? Bella wasn't good enough? Well Isabella was better than him. Isabella was armed with the carnal knowledge of men and women. She knows how to temp, how to seduce. She knows how to make him beg. Beg for more of her blood, more of her body. She was a cougar. Ready to pounce. This was better than ignoring her hatred of him.

This was productivity.

Crush him like he's crushed her, meanwhile, getting rid of her pesky infatuation with him. And if she happened to brass off Darla in the process, then yay for her. Three birds, one stone? Brilliant, Isabella, absolutely brilliant. Your best work yet.

Her head spun with confidence. Her plan forming. By the end, she'd have him on his knees begging for forgiveness. He was just a man after all. Even Zeus craved mortal woman's flesh.

If Zeus had wanted Hera, he wouldn't have indulged.

"Well Darla, it was nice meeting you. But unfortunately it's time for me to go."

Darla nodded; as Esme and Carlisle stood up, ready to escort her to the front door. Esme twister her fingers nervously. Unheard of from a vampire.

Esme wondered if Bella was hurt.

No Esme, Bella wasn't hurt.

Bella was swollen with negative thoughts and jealousy of this Darla. But Isabella won't let Darla bloat her appetite for revenge. Sorry Esme. Your son hurt me. That cannot be allowed.

Isabella stood up, shaking her rumpled coat back into place, and adjusted her cashmere scarf.

Edward peered at her. Trying to gauge her reaction, but finding nothing. Does she even care? Of the love of god, she just found out he bit someone else. Is she really this ambivalent to him?

Wasn't this what he wanted? For her to be over him? For her to finally move on? And now she has moved on. She's become stronger more resilient. But he knew deep down that he was a selfish prick. He wanted her to move on, but still pine for him. He wanted her to be happy but know that she would've been happier with him. He wanted to play the role of the hero, but without all the sacrifices. He still wants her. He loves her. He wanted to yell that Darla was a mistake. A grave mistake. That all he thought about was her. HER. Bella. Isabella. He doesn't care. He wanted this brutal girl that was the former shadow of his beloved. He wanted her with all of himself. Wanted to hear her plead to him. To beg him for more. To love him.

His body panted with the need of her.

He was a monster.

Only a monster would want to vandalize this girl. This beautiful, beautiful, crazy broken girl. The girl that he broke.

That gave him a morbid sense of happiness.

_He_ broke her. It was him.

It mortified him to know that he was glad. Glad that it was him. Glad that no one else touched his beautiful Bella, his Isabella.

What kind of gruesome creature relished in the fact that he broke his love?

He didn't deserve her. But god help him he wanted her.

But Darla.

He owed her. He owed her, HER life. Hadn't her wish be for him to repay his debt by spending the rest of his life with her?

He was definitely not an angel.

He was the devil reincarnated.

Isabella walked to the front entranceway of the Cullen Mansion. The rest of the family trailing her.

"Well, it was comforting to see you all again. I'll stop by again sometime soon."

Esme nodded her head emphatically, while Carlisle smiled and patted her head again.

"Please do come again Isabella. I'd love to cook for you!" Esme gave her a radiant smile, before sweeping her up into a warm hug.

"Ohh! Your trunk of clothes!" The thought hit Alice like lightening. Alice dashed upstairs quickly, moving on the balls of her feet. Jasper followed her with his eyes, smiling ruefully at his little ball of energy.

Isabella chucked at Alice's antics as she watched the tiny girl drag a large Rococo stylized trunk down the stairs, without breaking sweat.

Alice bounced nervously from foot to foot, as she set the trunk in front of Isabella. There was nothing she could do to fill the time lapsed. She left her sister, what kind of horrible sister was she? She left her twin in her time of need. This was her unspoken apology, the equivalent of offering an olive branch. Waiting for the acceptance and acknowledgement.

"I love it."

Alice squealed, before latching onto Isabella's neck again, hugging the breath out of her.

"I'll go get my car to help you back to your dorm."

And before Isabella could refuse the offer, Alice had already dashed off to the garage.

Darla frowned at Alice's warm attitude towards Isabella.

Isabella quickly hugged each of the family members as she saw Alice dash back up the front steps to take the trunk to her car.

Save the last two.

She gave Darla a calculating smile before walking slowly up to Edward, leaning back on her feet to look up at him through her lashes.

"Edward. It _was _nice to see you again. I'll see you around."

In the background she knew Darla was snarling. Edward looked confused at her 180-degree change of attitude. She felt Darla trembling with suppressed emotion.

Ha-ha bitch. Haha.

Then deliberately, she swept her hair back in a casual manner, knowing fully well Edward's exceptional sensitivity would smell her tantalizing scent.

She glanced at him deceptively innocent, through her thick fringes. Watching as…

His pupil's dilated. And his breathing deepened. Jackpot.

Then slowly, she leaned up, gently and discreetly brushing her nose along his jaw line, and hugged him, making sure to press her body into his.

He was going to die. Burst into flames of lust and love. Who was this person? This _woman_ with his beloved face and humor, but the darkness of another? And why does the thought of her and her shadows tantalize him?

Was he crazy? A sexual deviant?

He stiffened, then relaxed into her hug, wrapping his arms around her gently, pulling her fuller into his body.

Hook, line, sinker.

She pulled away. Tease, then seduce.

He let go of her reluctantly. The smell of her clinging to his clothes.

Rosalie smirked. That confident look, the teases. She knew full well of what Isabella was doing, having spent her younger years perfecting it. Smart girl. Couldn't have done it better herself. Well…maybe she could've.

Isabella then turned on her heels, flicking her hair behind her.

A wave of her seductive scene hit him again. Was she doing this on purpose? He held his breath. But he could taste her on the palate of his tongue. Fucking great. His body was hard for the need of her. It's been a long time.

Alice waved for her to hurry.

Isabella, turned her head again, and looked directly into his eyes.

She flashed a crooked smile. The one he gave her hours before he broke her.

That was his smile.

"I'll see you guys soon."

Her voice dripped with the promise.

Darla glared at her. Her shoulders hunching in effort to resist her urge to lunge. Her entire form was rigid, her face a mask of demonic rage.

Ugly.

"Oh and Darla, you were right. It was nice to meet you…" Isabella's voice lilted over the room, "And, it slipped my mind, how old did you say you were when you turned?" She failed to hide her knowing tone, and her shark smile.

"I _didn't_ say how old I was."

Isabella's smirk widened. Waiting for Darla to answer.

"I'm sixteen." Her voice could kill rocks.

Isabella's friendly smile twisted into something darker. A hint of meanness shown from her brandy colored eyes.

"Really now? I thought so."

Insulted, Darla snarled. Her lips curling over her teeth, golden red eyes flashing harshly.

And before anyone could say anything, Isabella was out the door, walking to Alice's car.

Rosalie let out a bark of laughter, as Jasper smiled sardonically. Esme looked relieved and Carlisle shook his head.

Emmett just looked at Edward. His expression thoughtful.

Edward. Well Edward looked shell-shocked. He was unbelievable aroused.

Isabella was hot and cold. She hated him one minuet and the next she was pressing her warm body into his.

What was her point? What were her intentions? Was he forgiven?

He wanted to fall at her feet and grovel for her grace. Sorry he ever made her doubt his devotion. Sorry he ever hurt her. Sorry he ever left. Sorry he wasn't strong enough to walk away from her again. He was SO sorry. She never would comprehend how much.

1,080,000 apologies. 500 some days away from her. 12 hours each night, saying 3 sorry's every minute.

It still wasn't enough. An eternity was not enough for him to apologize.

He let out a sigh. He couldn't wait for her to fulfill her promise. God know one of them had to be truthful.

Alice still drives like a manic, Isabella realized. 80 pushing 90 on a 50 mile stretch of road.

"Alice, dear god! Slow down!" Isabella yelped as Alice took a pin drop turn, nearly flipping the car, and sending Isabella into the door handle.

"He still loves you." No preamble. Stated like the fact it is.

Isabella's hold on the handle loosened. Obviously shocked by the abrupt announcement.

"Sorry, come again? I swore you told me he still loved me. Except for the fact, he_ left_ me." Her voice was hard yet trembled. Not sure how to take this fact.

The funny thing about facts was that they were stubborn. Nothing you say can change a fact.

"You know it's true." Alice peered at Isabella, gauging her response. "I'm not saying that he did was right, or even remotely smart. But he loves you. More than you can imagine. With more intensity than you imagine."

Isabella nodded. There was no use fighting Alice, no matter how wrong she thought she was.

Alice skived around a U-haul truck into the alleyway of Isabella's dorm. The car came to an abrupt halt. Alice turned to Isabella, her honey eyes sweeping deliberately across Isabella's face, calculating, memorizing, sensing.

Then gently, with the tip of her fingers, she pressed Isabella's face towards her, leaning their foreheads together. Isabella's skin burned with the coldness of her hot touch.

"Do what you have to do Isabella. But I'm telling you, it's not as it seems. He didn't change her willingly. That's all I can say. The rest, you need to find out for yourself. It's not my place to say. But trust me when I tell you that he still loves you."

Isabella closed her eyes.

"I know."

Alice nodded. Her eyes burning into Isabella's face.

"He loves you. Just remember that. And you love him. It's time for you guys to stop fighting what was predetermined."

Then without another word, Alice pressed her lips harshly into her forehead, before pulling away.

"Call me if you need anything. And…please forgive me…"

And before Isabella could breath, she was left standing in the wake of pebbles and dust, with the wooden trunk next to her feet. Wonderful. How cryptic. Just like Alice. Fuck the psychics of the world. Them and their confusing tarot card-like ramblings.

Isabella let out a sigh. Whatever.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone, checking the time.

It's Friday night.

Isabella's loves to party.

_To be continued…_

_---_

**AN**: Hi you guys! I was so happy to see all the reviews and all the favorite story adds, that I decided to treat you guys by giving you and extra early update! Anyways, I try to keep Bella everyone else in character, but darker. There are a lot of grey areas right now, but that's all apart of the tension and drama. You'll see why later on. I absolutely LOVE Darla, writing her was so much fun. I know right now she seems a little one dimensional, but you'll see more to her, she's the perfect manipulative villain! And Isabella, whoa! All I can say is you go girl. Go hook your Edward! Reviews are much appreciated!


	5. Chapter Four

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

--

"Red pumps. You need red pumps to go with that outfit."

Isabella eyed her outfit. It was a little bit too revealing for her taste, but Annie always had impeccable style. Alice would love her; Annie spoke the language of French, Italian, and American designer houses.

"Here, tape up your boobies, skin is nice, nipples are not." Annie than proceeded to forcefully feel her up, and tape the sides of her backless halter down with fashion tape.

"Huh, and here I thought that you were going to let me tape myself up, considering it's _my_ body." Isabella grouched good-naturedly. She was already use to Annie feeling her up, as it was a regular occurrence of helping her get ready for going out.

Annie shrugged, "Hey, better it be me, than some seedy lunatic." She leered jokingly at Isabella in the full-length mirror.

"Hey beautiful, wanna dance with a real man?" Annie continued in her best sketchy perv man voice.

Isabella sighed. One learned not to have any modesty or any pride around Annie, she was wickedly blunt.

She turned back to the mirror, and tugged experimentally on her black top, unsure if the think silk strap that tied around her neck and lower back were enough to actually keep the piece of fabric on her.

Despite the backless nature of her wears, she had to admit that it felt nice on the skin. The entire top was made of a thick, opaque gauzy material. It was fitted across her bust, then skimming the rest of her torso. It made her feel powerful and sensual. Except for the fact that it. Had. No. Back. Besides the silk straps around her throat, neck and back, the only other thing that kept her from flashing the great population of Chicago was the fashion tape, a fancy word for double-sided tape, stuck around the edges of the top. One wrong blast of wind, then people will be up close and personal with her nipples. Great. Just fucking great.

"Here, wear these." Annie rooted around the trunk Alice gave her and pulled out a pair of dark washed skinny jeans and, "Aha! Red heels!" Annie squealed to herself.

Isabella craned her neck around to see what made her roommates eyes bulge in joy.

"HOLY MOTHER OF CARRAVAGIO! These are LOUBOUTINES!"

Annie's scream vibrated off the kitchen counters and nearly gave Isabella a heart attack.

Yup, Annie was Alice's soulmate. She was more excited about the clothes in the trunk than Isabella was.

After a few more quick adjustments to her outfit, Annie deemed her ready. Both girls looked at themselves to the mirror. Annie fiddled with the straps of her fire engine red ruffle top before gazing back into the mirror, and meeting Isabella's eyes.

Annie's burgundy lips curved upwards into a sinful grin.

"It's party time."

--

She couldn't breath. The floor was jam packed with people and the only way to get through the crowd was to bump and grind. But she couldn't bring herself to care. After a few hits of whatever the hell Annie made her smoke, and at least 4 shots of sake, Isabella was feeling quite nice and floaty.

This was what life was about damnit, it wasn't about pining away for a mans affections, it was about getting out there and seizing it. She was young and attractive; screw anyone who made her feel inferior.

When she was with Edward, her thoughts were consumed about _why_ he was with her. She praised heaven each day for having him love _her,_ the shy little mousy nobody. And having other people hit on him didn't make it better. It was like they were confirming that she wasn't an obstacle, like she didn't really matter, that she wasn't a threat. Well damn them all. She was a goddamn threat. Screw the days where she basically curled up and died, sobbing her insecurities desperately into her pillow at night. Screw the day when he upped and left her like yesterday's trash, basically voicing all her insecurities and making her feels like she wasn't worth his love.

Well, she was worth it. She'd make him see. She was worth his love and more. Now she didn't _need_ his love to live. She didn't need him to feel alive; drugs did all that and more. Fuck him. He wanted to know what it felt like to be human? She'd show him. It was about obsession, hunger, lust, and all that dirty depraved feelings that he so coldly _wrought_ from her, then refused to sate it. Damn him for making her love him so much, and fucking damn her for falling in love. Pathetic fool.

And Darla.

She couldn't even express the exquisite anger she felt. Darla. Darla. The name strummed through her mind like an oppressive cadence. A cadence in which she wanted to pluck out those innocent brown eyes of Darla. Her mind couldn't stop focusing on what the girl had said.

He changed me.

Why didn't you know, _Bella_?

Poor little naïve Bella. Didn't Edward say? His kind was easily distracted.

_He changed me._

_He. Changed. Me._

Her breath heaved as she shoved the other patrons out of her way.

"Whiskey." She rasped at the bartender. He gave her a greasy smile. She could already guess what he would say to her when he opened his mouth.

"Save it, and give me the god damn whiskey."

He closed his mouth and glared at her, "Bitch…" and slammed down her shot.

Isabella took the shot and tilted her head back, letting the harsh amber liquid simmer down her throat.

Darla's voice would not be silenced. It's silky tone continued to feed Bella's insecurities. What if she was never what he wanted? Did he even love her? Why, she needed to know why.

She couldn't even begin to describe what she felt. Above all, she felt vengeful and humiliated.

How could he? She loved him. She _loved _him, and it wasn't enough. Why wasn't she enough for him? Was it her body? Was it her attitude? Was he tired of saving her all the time? Weak little Bella who needed assistance 24 hours.

Isabella wanted to curl up and die from the onslaught of emotions. She wanted to simultaneously throw herself in his arm and rip his arm from its socket. These intense emotions to just DO something to break his cool façade. She couldn't deal.

"Another."

The bartender complied, and she slammed that shot back too.

Edward would get his. If Alice were anything to go by, he would be here tonight. She had a niggling feeling that today would make or break her. And she would rupture his will. She'd crush him. He might be older (by a hell of a lot) and more experienced, but he was still a man, and she was his singer. She'd sing for him tonight. She was a woman, and he was a man. It couldn't get anymore primitive than this. He was still a man. Just a man.

Deep breathes.

Her lungs filled.

Annie came bounding over, just in time for Isabella to see flashes of bronze. So Alice did comply with her visions.

"Dance with me, Is."

Her pupils dilated. Alcohol coursing through her veins. Her skin felt warm and flushed. Blood pounding close to the surface. Her breathing turned into pants. This was what it meant to be alive. This adrenaline. Like you're perched on the edge of a precipice, ready to dive in. This feeling of utter indecision. Like something was about to happen. Something was going to tip that intense gut heaving feeling right out of her soul.

Her head spun, was it from the drugs or the alcohol, she couldn't tell, but it felt damn good. She couldn't bring herself to care either. Her eyes darted back to the front door, in time to see 3 people enter. Alice. Jasper. Edward. Huh, it seemed like they left the little girl at home. She wouldn't have passed for anything more that 18 even with a fake ID. Good. This was good.

She turned back to Annie. The girl's golden skin sparkled in the dim strobing lights. Couples grinded against each other, their motions directly heavily by want and need. Something Isabella knew of too well. Reminiscent of the days where Edward left her high and dry with her hands between her aching thighs, imagining it was him feeling her wetness, and wringing that moan from her throat.

"Lets dance." The Asian girl flashed her a smile, nodded, and grabbed Isabella's hand.

"Showtime!" Annie loved giving a good show. Always the attention whore, and dragging Isabella along with her power trips. Annie was wild and uninhibited, something Bella always wanted to be, but never could. It was something Isabella thrived on.

Isabella teetered onto her feet, regaining her balance in her heels. Slowly, the girls raised their arms into the air, and plunged in to the crowd, pushing to get to the center.

She felt his eyes.

She turned.

His beautiful golden eyes. Molten gold. Lust. Good.

Her ruby lips uplifted into a feral smile. Watch me, Edward. Watch me dance. Watch your innocent little Bella dance like a snake. And want me. Want me with your nonexistent soul. Don't you want to taint my purity Edward? Didn't you already take what you wanted from me?

Her eyes clashed with his, and she registered his shock. His anger. His utter irrepressible desire for her.

Her game was to drive him mad.

Her game was to take what he had taken from her.

Her game was revenge.

She kept eye contact with him as she and Annie moved further into the dance floor, and the sea of people closed in around them. Soon she was standing on an elevated platform. Throngs of people bouncing in a snarled mess of testosterone and estrogen. The primitive energy strumming through their veins, their ancient DNA shouting at them to fuck. Fuck and mate. Fuck.

Her eyes found his again.

Look Edward. Look what you did to me. I'm not the young Bella anymore. I'm now Isabella. Watch me be everything that you would not want for me.

Watch. Me.

Command his attention, her body screamed. Dominate his person. Make. Him. Want. You.

The female in her wanted him to prove his masculinity. Wanted to watch his muscles bulge as he claimed her for his own. Her body wanted him to prove his worth as a man.

Want. Me.

The music seemed to pulsate in her veins. The beats slithered through her body, and Isabella threw her head back, letting the cadence overtake her body. The heat was making her skin crawl and feel over charged. Turning around, she glanced at Annie, and shared a dangerous grin. The music changed, the throb ingrained into her bones. She heard her heart pound, and she was sure Edward could smell her blood with the amount of heat she felt.

This is for you Edward.

Slowly, she lifted up her arms. Closed her eyes. Promiscuity filled her being. The music. Palpitating.

Touch me, Edward.

Then smoothly, Isabella started to roll her hips, winding her body around and around…

Her hands traveled, through her hair, arching throat. Bare arching throat. Down her breasts, and across her stomach, before moving up again, pushing the fabric up her flat stomach, showing her glistening skin.

The lights hit the podium. The top became semi-translucent. The shadow of her skin, her breasts. Her nipples flushed from the heat.

Edward thought he died and gone to hell. If so, then he wanted to stay here.

Isabella was an angel. A devious, dangerous angel. He could smell her blood that sweet tempting scent, heightened with alcohol and some type of narcotic. Perversely, it magnified the scent; her blood was hot with drugs and want.

He could taste her arousal on his tongue. He knew he should stop breathing, but everything had become muted. All her could hear was the strumming of the illicit music, the beat pounding in time with her heart. That rhythm that pounded blood through her veins.

Alice and Jasper had disappeared. Outside. Apparently Jasper needed a breather. He didn't really care.

And he couldn't think. The thoughts around him drove him mad.

Sex, sex, sex, sex…

The heathenistic atmosphere fueled his growing desire. She seemed to have bathed this place in her scent. Everywhere, her aroma permeated. He couldn't escape it. He didn't want to.

He continued to watch her, his fists clenching, straining. Stopping himself from tearing into her. Both ways. With his teeth. And with his cock.

He couldn't help the way his body reacted. It was disgusting. Wrong. He shouldn't ache for her this way. Wasn't it disrespectful to think of his beloved this way? But there was nothing respectful of the way she was twitching her hips and thrusting her breasts.

"God save me," He murmured under his breath as he watched her body roll and shimmy. The light hit the stage and he could almost see the taunt nipple, pliant with heat and want. He wanted to take it into his mouth, and suckle it like a newborn babe. Tease it into a hardened pebble. He wanted to see if he could heighten her sensitivity and make her moan with his tongue. She would taste like the god's ambrosia, he decided. Her skin would taste like that. And venom pooled in his mouth as he aches to run his teeth along her heaving bosom, before biting into that soft flesh, with her bucking into him.

This was death in its glorified form.

Isabella felt hands on her hips, and turned to meet Annie's gaze. Slowly, they brought their bodies together, and started to move.

The crowd screamed.

The lights shone.

Her blood strummed through her hot aching veins. The pressure mounted. God she wanted the pressure in her veins relieved. It ached so good.

She was dizzy.

This was youth. This was adrenaline ripping through her body. This was her body, grinding into another woman's hips. This was her lips. Moaning with hate, anger, love, distress and hunger. These were her breasts, heaving, pushing into another.

Her hips moved more insistently against Annie's, fueled by wanting him to watch.

Watch me dance.

Watch me turn you the fuck on.

Annie gave her a knowing look. Though she didn't know the details, Isabella's behavior has been off this entire week. Usually a little cautious, tonight she was uninhibited. Illicit. Only a man can do this to a woman. Only a man can push a woman to the edge of her sanity to resort to this. And Isabella was there. The edge of all reason, she was out for the kill tonight. Her body moved like a women's intention to push a man's buttons.

Annie's hands, pressed against Isabella's back, pushing the girl more into her body, and letting their bodies wither to the hypnotic beat.

This was fucking life at its most insane and intense. This feeling that felt like if she didn't get it out would implode and take her with it. Isabella moaned louder, and slowly dropped her body down the other girl's, and slowly snaking it back up. Her spin arched provocatively, rolling her lithe muscles up and about.

The crowd roared in approval.

She could feel him.

She opened her eyes.

He was right there in front of her.

He had moved closer.

Her head registered these facts in stunted sentences.

"Edward…" She breathed, and could see it affect him. That's right, watch me dance for you my snake master, play your tune and watch me _slither_.

She pulled away from Annie, who seemed to be in good hands with a good-looking Grecian man, and focused on this blazing Adonis in front of her.

"Whom are you dancing for?" She heard and felt his words hit her mind. His eyes made her skin peel from the heat. She wanted to tear off the fabric between them and press her heated body against his cold one. She wanted to scald him with her heat. Wanted to _mark _his body with her burns. She wanted to torch this cold-blooded reptile's veins, and know that he was shriveling because of _her_.

Hypnotically, she circled her hips down, till she was face to face with him, her knees spread, fingers reaching to touch his lips. Eyes seeing eyes.

"I dance for you, Edward. Don't you like it when I dance for you?" Then gently, she traced his lips with her nails, before rolling her body back up. His face was parallel with her pelvise, his eyes tilted up to watch.

She didn't close her eyes this time. Staring right at him. Look what you did to me Edward. Aren't I the most beautiful broken doll you've ever seen? Wind me up and watch me move to your pulse.

She began to move in earnest now, her arms caressing her body, pushing fabric aside to show glimpses of alabaster skin. Her body twisted and moved. It's function to tempt and seduce. To fuck.

She moaned under her breath, knowing only he can hear.

"Edward…touch me…touch my skin, feel how hot it is for you…"

His fingers trembled as he slowly reached out. He could feel the heat her skin gave off, pushing her natural perfume further into his sinuses. His fingers grazed the fabric of her denim-clad thigh. The muscles bunched and tightened.

Then she dropped her body down in front of him agin, and slowly brought it back up, rolling her lower body in ways that was so depraved. Allowing his hand to travel up to her ass, and to her waist.

This was torture.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes full of something he couldn't explain.

He reached out and grasped her hips with both hands, and pulled her off the platform.

"My dorm is closer."

_To be continued…_

_---_

**AN**: Argh, my head hurts from writing this chapter! I wasn't sure how to show Isabella's seduction of Edward without extreme physical contact, but I'm hoping that I pulled it off. You have to understand that her intent is not to fuck him (yet) but to drive him crazy, which is done by tempting him. I wanted to tempt you guys too so I kind of tried to make this chapter intense with the feeling of…intensity? Tried being the operative word, so you'll have to give me feedback on that! Also, some readers brought up the fact that they couldn't tell when the P.O.V changed and asked if I could make it clearer. Well, that was kind of intentions because at the moments when the P.O.V changes the characters are kind of feeling the same exact emotion. I tried to make it clearer in this chapter, but I didn't really draw a line literally and figuratively. Also, I've got comments that said that this was depraved and that Isabella isn't more mature than Bella. Well, Isabella is young, she feels invincible, and this is what young people do. They party. They fuck. I'm not saying all kids do, but pretty much when you go to college, you try drugs and do stupid shit. Review please!


	6. Chapter Five

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

--

Fuck.

That was the only thing going through Isabella's mind right now. Fuck. In both the verb and the adjective.

She felt his cold hands press against her heated hips. The action seemed disjointed and swirly.

Can an action be deemed swirly? Isabella thought it could. She could almost SEE the music pounding through her brain in big bought of psychedelic color. Oh man, if only she could paint this moment. But how could one fit all these hazy intense emotions onto a canvas? How would she paint the absolute thrill of power? Of lust? Of being a retarded teenager and experimenting? How can she possibly convey to an audience that _this_ was the moment in her life that she could _never_ forget? This dizzying array of deep emotion, like she was standing on a tightrope, not really ready to fall nor ready to walk. This was indecision. This was Isabella, at the cusp of being ready to take what she wanted.

Her arms felt tingly, she wasn't sure if it was pleasant, but it was what it was. Their hips pushing into another. Grinding.

Her mother had always commented that she was an old soul. She never had a real childhood. Not really. From divorce to living with her absent-minded mother then moving in with Charlie, Bella never had a childhood. Not that she minded. She completely passed over the teen-age rebellion phase, and never experimented like her peers. Then she dated a vampire over a century old that had the willpower of a rock.

So much for being young and living life.

Which brings her to this minuet in this time. This was rebellious Bella, long over due. This was experimental Bella, not feeling guilty. This was irresponsible Bella, being…well irre-fucking-sponsible. This was Isabella if her parents were normal. This was Isabella, inhibitions lost. This was Bella, pursuing _her natural course of life._ Thank you very much Cullen's.

She rolled her hips harder. Pushing into his marble body.

In her heady mind, she processed Edward, pressing her back into his cold, cold chest, the cage for his cold, cold heart.

She cold feel the hardness of his body, pressing into her back. Shoulder to chest, ass to…

"Oh my, Mr. Cullen. I didn't know you wanted me _this_ bad." Isabella murmured. Her voice was husky with smoke, tight with giddiness. But the underlining barb was clear.

She wanted to hate him so bad. The fears still scalded her deep. Her questions. Her unborn insecurities festering until all she had left was her anger towards him. And her desperation. Her desperation to do whatever it takes to get over him. Get the fuck over him.

Isabella knew he heard her sexually laced comment, and as most likely reeling from how assertive this Bella was. Even with the loud strumming of hypnotic beats and the heated thoughts swirling around them, she knew he heard her. There's something about a combination of hot blood and lust that makes everything hypersensitive. And right now, every follicle of her skin was humming in anticipation.

_Baby, I want you. I want your lips against my skin. _

_Skimming down, down, down…_

_I want to scream into your bite._

_I want you to want me._

Her mind was a wandering haze of narcotics and incoherent thoughts. The only thing she knew was that her body wants him. Her body wants him like no other. Her body wanted him to sate it's lust.

_So this is what the crack heads feel like. _She mused. Chasing that rushing feeling. That emotional high.

His growl pierced through her ear. She hoped he was pissed beyond belief. His hands clasped like steel bands around her wrists as he spun her around, and began to drag her off to the side.

She smirked. Was he going to take her up on her offer of going to her dorm? Or would he take her here. In front of all these people. And when he went home tonight, would Darla smell her on him? Would she sniff his body and smell the mark that she had made? Edward had belonged to her before Darla ever known vampires exist. And even if he didn't love her, she knew he lusted for her, body and blood. He took away her innocence, and now she was going to take his.

Edward pulled her out a side door, into an alleyway. She peered around.

"Well, this is an interesting venue you chose Edward. I don't know how I'd feel about fucking on this gravel, but I guess we could do it standing up. You know, my dorm is still an option." She threw a wicked smile at him. His darkened eyes noted.

She was against the brick wall faster than she could say '_fuck me'._

Her senses dulled, and all she could possibly feel was him. The blackness of his eyes. The sweetness of his breathes bearing down on her. The marble solid muscles clenching her wrists at her sides.

The world fell away from her.

Was this what she was missing?

Bella cried on the inside as the festering infection in her heart disappeared. His skin against hers the cure.

How could she possibly forgive him for his transgressions against her? At this moment, Isabella's defenses fell. She had missed him, dearly. She was practically catatonic the first few months, showing absolutely no emotion. No tears. It was like her heart had shut down, and all was left was a machine. A machine that pumped to normal beats, no more sporadic patterns anymore. Everything dulled.

"What the hell have you taken?!"

The colors swirled back alive, everything did a 180 turn. The monotonous red flared to a vibrant crimson, and his pale smooth skin practically beamed in her eyes as a beacon of light.

His question finally processed through her mind. Taken? What had she taken? A little bit of alcohol? Yes that's right, she had alcohol. What else, cigarettes? No, she didn't smoke anything. Oh wait. Yes. She did some something. Weed? Pot? Mary Jane's? Mary Jane. Oh that reminded her of dear Mary Alice. She did like Alice. But the pot tasted funny. What else was in that bong? Oh my dear fucking me.

She must had said it out loud.

Edward was stunned. What the fuck happened to his sweet blushing Bella? The perpetual klutz that was always so humble and shy. When was his blushing rag-a-muffin replaced with this dangerous woman? This woman that obviously knew her way around a man's body and soul. It bothered him that she knew how to play on his non-existent human hormones. The way she rolled her hips were lethal, and nearly made him shove her to the floor and dominate her in the most ancient way a man could dominate a woman.

The monster in him growled in approval.

Did she think that she could lead him? Did she think that with a flick of her hair and the subtle swaying of her pelvis could force him to bend to her will?

His animal's instinct roared.

He wanted to throw her to the ground. Cover her body with his and force her to submit. Have her screaming beneath his fingertips. That would satisfy his quenching thirst.

No.

It wouldn't just satisfy. It would arouse more. And he would take pleasure in feeding his hunger.

In the back of his head, he knew this was wrong. To want to pound this girl into the floor. To want her to want him just as much as his obsession with her. But he couldn't stop. He never could. Even with his iron will, he'd always belong to her.

And here was his master, pressed up against the grimy brick wall in an alleyway. They were alone. No one would see his demon coming out to play. No one would see how he could make her scream his name.

"…_fuck_…"

Her words broke through his lust driven blood craze. He watched in almost slow motion as her lips wrapped around that word. Fuck. What he wouldn't give to subject her to that verb. He could almost feel his eyes turning black. Edward drew his glance up to her face, meeting those warm brown eyes of hers.

_She was sucking on his dick. He could hear his moaning in the background._

_Fuck it felt amazing._

_Her doe eyes wide and hooded, peered at his through her eyelashes._

_He screams._

He snapped back to reality. But the damage was done. He could never erase that image again. What he wouldn't give…

He met her eyes again. Her pupils were dilating widely.

He reigned in his monster.

This wasn't normal.

Edward learned in and gently brushed his nose down the gentle slope of her neck.

Isabella moaned and her head rolled to the side. Her brown eyes clenched shut. The arousal sweeping off her in waves that hit his nostrils hard and fast.

Breathe Edward. Breath.

His love for her screamed at him to take control of the situation. To stop focusing on wanting to screw her.

Edward closed his eyes, and took in another deep breath, just right next to her pulse point.

He heard her heart thump widely in its cage. It wanted to get closer to him.

He smelled her. The freesia, the strawberry, the lavender. But something was off.

Her grip of him tightened. And her could feel her fingers trembling.

"What the hell have you taken?!" He was enraged. What had become of his love? Did he break her so much that she had to numb the pain with drugs? Did she even know what they could possible do to her?!

Her eyes opened. And she started to mumble to herself.

"Mary Jane…"

Her words continued to slur into each other, but he had heard enough. He could smell the rankness of pot hanging off her clothes, along with it something else.

He wanted to scream.

Why did he leave her? Was this what he wanted for her to become? *

Isabella moaned low in her throat. Her head feeling lighter by the minuet. She could still feel the juxtaposition of her heated skin and his cold nose, brushing against her neck. The ground tilted on its axis. She could feel herself faltering under the gravity. Was this the effect Edward had on her? Or was this the drugs in her system?

Whatever it was. This was fantastic! The tilting was really something. She still felt his arms holding her tight. Supporting her. She wanted to beat him senseless. Where was he when she needed his emotional support? Where was he when she shriveled up and died? Where was he when she became so desperate as to seek comfort in Jake's human embrace? Where was he then?!

"Where were you?" Her words broke out before the world tilted away in his arms.

Everything went black.

She woke up in a black leather couch. A soft blanket draped over her shivering frame. Her body felt too hot. Too cold. Her skin felt sensitive to the cold sweat breaking over it. The soft fur blanket chafed, so she threw it off. Her eyes wildly careened around the atmosphere.

This wasn't her dorm room.

CDs. Stereos. Desk. Computer.

Her breathing became harsher. Where was she?

_Where were you? Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU?!_

Events flashing in her mind. Lust. Want. Hate. Obsession. Love. God, it's killing her. Her love for him was killing her! Please God; please just stop me from loving him. Please grant me this small act of mercy. She wanted to throw her body to the floor and beg. Beg for her heart to stop beating for this man. To stop making herself this pathetic worm for wanting to seek his cold heat.

Isabella pressed her trembling fingers to her temples. Ecstasy laced weed was not her friend. She smirked painfully. At least not right now.

Her throat felt parched.

Immediately, a glass of water was in front of her, as if to answer her silent request. The glass was grasped in a pale white hand. She followed the hand up to the face of the owner…and wanted to lobotomize herself.

"Edward."

He said nothing while she took the water from him, gulping it down in quick greedy movements. Her eyes never leaving his form. He sat stiffly in his place. When her throat felt sufficiently satisfied, he silently took the glass back and set it on the table beside him.

She hadn't noticed he sat right next to the couch. His eyes were dark as they examined her. His silence scared her more than anything. The only noise was her raspy breathing. It unsettled her. Why was she here?

"What have you done to yourself?" He whispered. His voice was sad, forlorn, and guilt ridden, and angry. Typical Edward. Always the one to blame.

His question felt like a slap to her face. Shame filled her pores. Resentment defended her shame. Who was he to judge her actions? She could do whatever the hell she wanted. Who was he to question _her? _Who was he to make her feel embarrassment? She didn't give a fuck about what anyone else said about her drug habits (or recreational use). What gives him the right to question what she does? She answers to no one. She belonged to herself. To herself.

Isabella let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"I haven't done anything to myself." She retorted, watching as anger quickly flitted across his sculpted features.

He growled, "You haven't done anything? What the fuck do you call taking laced weed?! Have you gone daft? Do you even comprehend the consequences of your actions?! You want to die?!"

His anger steadily progressed. His back arched in a feline kind of way, caving in his ehest. And he was soon leaning into her yelling.

"You could've died from a drug overdose. What the hell were you thinking Bella?!"

Isabella sneered in rage, one hand pressed up against his chest trying to shove him away from her personal bubble.

"What the fuck Edward. Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't own me, as a matter of fact; why the fuck do you even care? _You _left _me_! I owe you nothing." Her words were quiet, but their intensity shook him to the core. He was speechless.

His silence seemed to goad her on.

Her face twisted into beautiful anger. She could feel it washing over her, taking her love for him and shoving it deep back inside herself. Somewhere dark.

"_You _LEFT_ me!_ So don't act like I owe you something!" her voice reached higher. Her tone hysterical. Born from deep-rooted fear and rejection. It was her mantra.

Edward watched in horror as Bella shrunk back into herself, looking so delicate and vulnerable that he wanted nothing more and to gather her into his arms and curl up to protect her.

Bella wrapped her arms around herself, and dropped her chin down to her chest. Her eyes shut. The world around her dropped away. It was only her and Edward. Isn't this what she had wanted? Her and Edward. Fairytales and flowers.

"_You left me. You left me. You left me…_"

She clung onto her mantra.

_To be continued…_

_---_

**AN**: Uh-oh this is getting a little hairy! Obviously there's going to be a confrontation soon. Isabella really needs it, she's at a point where, mentally she knows it's not her fault and that she's beautiful and wanted, but can't bring herself to acknowledge it emotionally. Doesn't that suck? She's a very confused woman! Anyways, I hope you gain more insight into Isabella's behavior and how it affects those around her. * This is an example of my POV change; this could both be viewed as Bella's though and as Edwards thought before it completely switches from Bella to Edward. Hopefully this chapter did the entire over-dosing, uninhibited, reckless drug use, justice. While I don't support drug use, this element is important to the overall plot. Next chapter you'll see Isabella and Edward confront their past. After that, shit starts to really hit the fan! Darla isn't just a darling! And in regards to the other Cullen's, Isabella doesn't really blame them, thus her quick acceptance to Alice's peace offering, she just blames Edward and herself. Review please!


	7. Chapter Six

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

--

"_You left me. You left me. You left me…_"

She was back to the beginning. The beginning of the end.

It all came rushing back.

The scent of pine needles in the forest, the confusion, the need to _wake up_.

The aftermath still haunts her. The warmth of someone else carrying her. The humiliation of everyone knows it was because of a boy. A boy. He was just a boy. Underneath everything. He was just. A. Boy.

How was it fair that he could wound her like this? He didn't even have the courtesy to break her. He left her wounded, living this half-life. This pitiful existence. She remembers the scorn she felt. Everyone whispering how pathetic it was for her to be so broken over a guy. Move on. They all wanted her to move on. To stop being such disgrace to her gender.

Didn't they know that she wanted to? Did they think she likes feeling like shit all the time?

It's of the disgrace and insecurity. The feeling that your identity will never come back. The feeling of you, willing to sacrifice your pride just for one more smile. Just one.

"_Jake?"_

"_Yes, babe?"_

"_Do you love me?"_

"_Like no other."_

"_What do you love about me?"_

"_Fishing for compliments Bells?"_

"_Come one Jake…don't tease!"_

"_Well…I love your humor, your compassion, how you move, how beautiful you are, your smile, how you make me feel…"_

"_How do I make you feel?"_

"_Warm. Happy."_

"_Will you ever leave me?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Seriously now."_

"_I am being serious."_

"_You know what this means right?"_

"_That I'm your bitch?"_

"_Jake!"_

"_Ok, ok, what does it mean?"_

"_That you belong to me now…"_

"_So…I'm your bitch?"_

"_Jake!"_

"_I'm just kidding! You can have all of me. I promise. I'm all yours."_

"_Do you mean that?"_

"_Yep…now stop talking…Shhh…"_

"_Ooohh….Jake….what did I say about teasing?"_

"_Shh…"_

Edward's hands hovered nervously around Bella's shoulders. Her knees were drawn up, encircled by her arms. Her head leaning forward. He didn't know what to do. Look at how he'd hurt her. This girl…this woman before him is the result of his actions. How can he make it up to her?

"Bella…Bella…please, look at me. I'm sorry. So sorry."

Her tawny head slowly rose, and he saw her brown eyes, accented by all that smoky shadow. Her eyes gazed at him, blank.

"You are sorry?"

"So sorry…" He murmured, taking her hands into his, as he kneeled down before her, keeping eye contact.

"You…are sorry?"

Her hand blurred as it slapped him across the face, and felt the bones in her finger give.

Hysteria.

"You are fucking sorry?! Oh dear fucking God. The world must be ending. The great Edward Cullen is sorry. SORRY. That's all? You're sorry? Well, I've got three words for you, you fucking dick. Go. Fuck. Yourself."

She was trembling, trying to not let all her anger burst forth. To not show him how much he hurt her.

She failed.

Standing, she leaned towards him, grabbing his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. She wanted to purge this demon from herself.

"I have had enough."

Her words were like stone. Edward took in an unnecessary breath of air.

"I've had enough of your bullshit and deception. I don't want to hear your justification for leaving, it's most likely some bullshit excuse you always give me. Know this Edward Cullen, I won't be made a fool of. I'm not the same stupid sheltered little girl you knew who would just follow you blindly. And now, I'm asking you, as a person. As someone whom you once loved. Why? Just…Why?"

Edward shook his head, his lips forming a tight line. Slowly, he guided her back down to the chaise. He owed her, this he knew.

"I…was scared. I think. I mean…I was afraid you'd be in danger. I was afraid Jasper…"

His eyes dropped to focus on her collarbone.

Isabella laughed. Her hands coming up, once again, grasping his ears and forcing his eyes up to hers again.

"Bullshit. I call bullshit on that."

Her lips twisted into a semblance of a scornful smile.

"All this time…I thought the problem lied with me. It was always me, me, me, me, me…I was wrong. The problem wasn't me. The problem was you."

_Too thin._

_Awkward legs._

_Completely flat chested._

_Face…lips too thin, nose too blunt, eyes…plain._

_Ugly. Just fucking ugly._

"One thing you did get correct Edward, you were scared. You're still scared. You took away my choice, you told me nothing! You chose to lie to me; you made me think that I wasn't good enough. I specifically asked you if you didn't want me anymore. You didn't even have the decency…" She inhaled; the air rattled her teeth, as her lungs expanded with the force of her anger. Rue the day she fucking met him.

"You…I can't…You've lived for more than a hundred years Edward! You hear people's thoughts everyday. You've seen things I've experienced. I always felt…cowed. In awe. And now…You're such a sad fucking excuse for a person. You're scared by the concept of love. Love isn't taking away choices. Love is working shit out together. You took away my choice!"

He exploded.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE. TOO FEEL THESE EMOTIONS…To know that you're life would've been easier without us complicating it! You wouldn't be able to handle it! Our emotions are different than yours, we're not human! It's so much more intense, I was obsessed Bella! OBSESSED. I loved you so much it bored on being psychotic! It wasn't healthy for either one of us! I did what was best! I did what I wasn't strong enough to do before."

Edward's grip on her intensified, shaking her by her shoulders, wanting to pound this knowledge into her. How can he explain the love of a monster? It wasn't even comprehensible. The desire to keep her close at all time, to prove he was man enough to provide for her, the urge to protect, protect, protect. All the meanwhile, his human emotions begging him to worship her, to cherish, to build her a home.

"Are you serious? You seriously believe…Fucking Christ Edward! Since when was anything about our relationship even remotely normal to begin with?! You stalked me for days, watched me sleep at night, my scent makes you want to drain me dry. If we're going by 'normative'," Her fingers sarcastically made air quotes, " standards then why the fuck did you even bother. We're not even the same fucking family of mammals. I mean, if a normal human male killed people, you think I'd love him? Hell no! That's unhealthy. But Edward…we're not normal people to begin with. You read minds. You're a vampire. You live on blood. You've killed. And I'm…I'm not the same girl from before. I don't hold any fantasies about a happily ever after with you."

Isabella's hands trembled as she raked it through his hair, resting it against his neck. Slowly she leaned her head against his chest, listening to the hollow sound of his inexistent breath.

"I…can't do this anymore. Anger warped me. And now it's time for me to get go. Edward…believe what you want, disagree with me…whatever…I just…"

Bracing herself.

"I don't forgive you. I never will. But I love you. And don't hold it against you. I still. Love you."

His world fissured. Pressure between his eyes, forcing poisonous venom from his long defunct tear ducts. How does one make things right, when what's wrong is right? He wanted to bind her to him, to forever bask in her presence. He didn't care if she hated him. He could live with her hate. He just…needed her. Needed her desperately. If he were a better man he'd stay away. He'd let her go. Let her go. But…

Isabella watches with impassively emotional eyes, as she heard a high keening cry sound from Edward's chest. Her fingers slipped from his neck as she felt him slump to the floor, at her feet. Slowly she treaded her digits into his hair as he rested his face against her womb. His cry broke her heart. But he needed to beg. She needed him to beg. This was their fucked up, broken up, dysfunctionally beautiful relationship.

Cold fingers against her hips. Cold lips on her stomach. Cold air in her lungs.

"Isabella…Bella…forgive me…forgive me…I love you…"

"Edward…"

"Pleasepleaseplease…"

And so the mighty god falls to his knees…

AN: Yo! So…we're reaching the rising action of the first arch! I guess 6-10 more chapters before we conclude. Review please! So…just a sound off…Recently I've been reading this one woman's epic (like REALLY epically long…) fanfiction. I love the story…but kind of really dislike the writer with an extreme passion. Her story is kind of controversial due to the nature of the relationship, and while I would never condone abusive relationships, this is fiction…and I like to think readers aren't idiots. Someone left a nice constructive review, pointing out how the relationship might not be healthy in "some people's opinion". And on this note, the author proceeded to address a long note to all readers and reviewers basically saying that she's writing for herself and that we're lucky she shares it with us. She then goes on to say that it's her story, she doesn't "give a shit" about what the readers think and that maybe her story is too deep for some to comprehend. Um…rude! First off you're not writing for yourself if you post it on the web. Especially on since it's pretty much a given that you want people to read and review your story. If you wanted to "write for [yourself]" that's possible without other people reading it in your diary. Needless to say, even though I really liked her story, I peaced out of her story. Writers who don't appreciate their readers and assume they're better than them are just so…mean. Haha. What's your opinion on this matter? If you're a writer do you appreciate your fans?


	8. Chapter Seven

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

"_You promised."_

What? Edward promised?

Bella felt her lips pull back against her teeth, in both a manic smile and a snarl. Silly girl, didn't you know? Prince Charming never keeps his promises. He didn't keep his promise to her, what makes you think he'll keep it for you?

Prince Charming just wants to fuck.

Edward.

He messed up.

The room was harsh in its silence. The shallow whispers of habitual breathing. The harsh grasp of Edwards hand, the blankness of Alice's look, the look of triumph on Darla's face. Everything was magnified. Intensified. She wanted to yell at Edward for pressing too hard against her hand. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her shoes against the wall. She wanted…she wanted for this to end. God. This _has _to pass.

She's always heard of stories like this when she was young. Her friends would cry on the phone with her for hours over how a boy did them wrong. How a boy broke their heart. She sympathized, but deep down inside she thought of how foolish her friends were, how could you're heart be broken from a boy? Was he worth all the tears they shed? And she promised herself that she would never end up like that. A sniveling mess on the ground. No. Bella Swan wouldn't hurt over a boy. Bella Swan wouldn't cry over a boy. Bella Swan had too much self-respect to ever let herself sink that low.

If the gods could see her now.

_She felt worthless. Like yesterday's trash, and in her mind it was whywhywhywhyWHY? She tried so hard to not feel the insecurity baring down on her. She tried so hard not to feel used. Used. It's like a rotting corpse you'd never find. This immense feeling of not even being worthwhile. _

_And now she knew the truth of how many ways a heart could hurt. _

There's no way that fate was this cruel to shaft her like this. She was not fate's bitch.

"Promised?" Her tone was pleasant, as if inquiring about the state of the weather rather than this romantic entanglement.

Darla's tawny eyes wildly settled upon her, "Yes, promised." She spat.

"Are you retarded or just hard of hearing?" Any semblance of courtesy gone, all that was left was a woman, afraid of losing her man.

_How ugly you've become. Desperate to keep you're heart whole. In a way…she could empathize…_

Bella's face was smooth, her lip still pulled into a small smile, not even twitching at Darla's insult.

"Promises are meant to be broken, you silly girl." She murmured, "You'll do well to learn that lesson, my dear."

Sharp intake of breath.

Bella felt Edwards hands twitch beneath her own, his fingers trembling under the strain. His head was bowed, still resting on her shoulder, waiting for her judgment.

"He wants _me_. He chose me. I'm here now. I was here when you weren't."

Have you ever felt the world pulse before? Maybe it was under a moment of stress, or when you know something was about to happen before it did, maybe you were just angry. The rush of blood into your system. Heading upstream to the brain. The slight increase in oxygen intake. The tightening of muscles. And for about a split second, the world around you is a fish bowl lense, the light bends and fractures, you lose your sense of gravity.

Bella breathed in.

Darla's recomposed herself. She loved Edward. And by god she was going to fight this human skank for him. He was her alpha and omega. She just hadn't realized he was also that to someone else. She knew of Bella vaguely. Her name was a taboo, but she's gleaned enough from random scraps of conversation to know she was somehow related to Edward. She had always taken his affection for love, thinking that maybe that's all he was capable of. And honestly, she was fine with that. As long as she had all he had to give, she would love him. She would mend his need. She would be everything he needed. She wanted to please him so badly. Because she loved him too… She hadn't realized that what she'd gotten was left over from a ghost of his past.

Bella's eyes met Alice's. And the smaller girl knew.

"I'm hungry." Alice stated.

Esme shot her a distressed look, "Alice, I don't think this is the appropriate time for that." Her marble fingers had wrung a hole in her skirt, before Carlisle, gently, took them into his own.

"Yes Alice, nourishment sounds great right about now."

Giving everyone a significant look, Carlisle turned gently on his heel, guiding his wife out into the hall. Following his example, the rest of the family followed, leaving only Darla's casted shadow in the doorway.

As he walked the beautifully decorated hallway, Carlisle bowed his head, and murmured under his breath, "God bless…"

Everything always worked out for the best. It has to.

_I'm struggling to breathe._

_Ever intake of air seems harder than the last, and I'm waiting for the inevitable explosion. The way my fleshy pink organ will just combust in a blast of gory mess. And all will be exposed to air. _

_Will it be easier to breath then? _

_This moment, I close my eyes, and my limbs tingle, my hair follicles feels charges to the roots, tingling with the strain of the inevitable. It's like the electricity in the air before a storm; I'm waiting for the eventual downpour. It always downpours in Nevada… The hiccupping strum of breath, can you breath for me? Can you place your lips on mine and push the air from your lungs into mine?_

_Fill me with your life, for I can't live on my own…however desperately I may want to…_

Bella's cold brown gaze leveled on Darla. Brown clashed with gold.

How poetic that it's the same shade as Edwards.

There were so many things she wanted to say. To yell. To scream at this other woman whose living her fantasy. But that's just it. It was a fantasy, an alternate dream world where every relationship was just going to work out perfect. There would be no unrequited love. No false promises. No heartache. But she also wondered; would life be cause tragically beautiful? Would her happiness feel the same if she never felt the pain?

Isabella didn't think it was worth it.

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than to never love at all, clearly hasn't been afflicted by the special brand of torture issued by Edward Cullen.

And she was done.

Gently, pulling her hands away from Edwards. Her soul feeling aged and heavy, Bella selfishly chose herself.

"I'm not going to fight for you Edward, anymore. I'm done."

AN: I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short, but I felt bad that I haven't updated since forever, and I wanted to give you guys a little bit of what I've written before posting chapter eight, 2.5 week from now. You can hold me to that promise! So again in my author's note, I ask, how do you think it feels like to be cheating on? I feel like I portrayed the intensity of how it affects your self-respect and how you view love and yourself realistically, but do you disagree? Constructive criticism is always welcomed :D


	9. Chapter Eight

**Knox**

**Rated**: M

**Summary**: She's moved on, she swears. Then she sees him with a girl. That's not her. She breaks.

"_I'm not going to fight for you Edward, anymore. I'm done."_

In the darkness of her dorm room, the words seemed to bounce off the walls. After she had given her concession to Darla she held her chin up high. This was the point of no return. She had done all that she could. She had gotten what was needed.

For an odd moment she thought of Cinderella.

The glass slipper that was a part of a beautiful, hysterical, noir dream. The ending that was perfect, the ending that was complete bullshit.

Isabella didn't need a damn prince to make herself complete. Isabella didn't need to feel wanted by a man. She was Isabella, stronger, vibrant, feisty, all on her own.

She is her own complete puzzle.

Rolling to face the window, Isabella stared at a small doodle of a cactus near her bed.

Time seemed to fade; it was just her and this odd feeling deep inside. It was a churning pile of elation, pride, agony, and just plain fucking awkwardness.

Emotional trauma, she knew.

Joy, she knew.

Lust.

Security.

These were all on her scale of feelings. But this one, this particular one that she was feeling now, though not new, was one she could never quite put her finger upon.

Her body gave no indication as the dorm room door slammed open.

"Fuckin–…Is?"

Annie cautiously creped into the room, hands sliding against the wall to look for a light switch.

"Jesus! Why the fuck are you sitting in the dark like a flippin' mall goth?"

The lights flared on.

"Oh gawd," everything Annie needed to know was written on Isabella's face, "hun, who the fuck do I have to kill?"

Isabella's bed dipped as Annie lowered herself upon it, legs crossed, looking for all the world like a consoling aunt. It was a funny picture, her with her potty mouth, cleans cut clothing, and bright jewelry.

A small smirk graced Isabella's lips.

The tears and sobs came next.

This feeling, this feeling of such…hard description. It's like watching from behind the wheel of a runaway car. You know it's out of control, you're jerking the wheel, hoping beyond hope to get it back on track. The stupid inanimate car won't listen, and it keeps going, speeding up, crazy, insane, down that one-way street.

And in the end, you just want it to fucking crush just to get it over with.

"Annie…I…"

It felt better with the compression of someone's arms around her, like she wasn't so out of control.

"Shhh…just cry it out…"

Everything tumbled out, Forks, Charlie, Renee, Jacob, school, Edward, the Cullen's, her depression, her art. It was like verbal vomit she couldn't stop. Everything that she had ever kept a secret just flooded out. The dam that she was holding in broke. She was so tired of holding anything in.

The slow stroking of Annie's hand on her back seemed to make everything come out faster.

She just wanted to feel ordinary for one last goddamn time.

She use to hate being so plain and ordinary. Brown hair, brown eyes, run of the mill personality, commonplace problems…

And now everything was too much. Too much drugs, too much perfection, too much, too much…

The vividness of life was killing her.

"Oh hon…" Annie sympathetically clucked, "wanna a fucking glass of cran-grape juice? You're going to dehydrate yourself with all your water-works. I don't want a damn husk for a room-mate."

She hopped off of Bella's bed, upending pillows and made her way to the small adjacent kitchen.

Bella let out a musky laugh, her breath hitching on the unexpected emotion.

"Fucking hell, you're a better friend then any fucking sparkling vampire."

AN: Yes this chapter happened. I updated. Even I'm appalled. :) All right ladies (and gentlemen…) lets have at it. I'm in my bunny suit ready to dodge your flying tomatoes! I'm so sorry this took a year! I'll try aiming for 6 months next time… So…in the mean time…Review?


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